Hoping for Better
by DoubleL27
Summary: Peter goes to see Darcy in the hospital. Set during Standing in the Dark part 2. Written for Joey Witter in the DB Secret Santa project.


He was definitely going to get in a shitload of trouble if anyone caught him. He watched as the somber family slipped out of the hospital room and moved through the quiet hallways towards the elevator. Peter remained in the shadows not wanting the family that already detested him from seeing. They'd likely call the cops, who would call his parents and his parole officer and well…he'd be grounded and in huge trouble all around.

And he wouldn't be able to get in to see Darcy.

There was a ping and he watched her parents move into the elevator and the doors slipped shut. Once he was sure they were gone he moved down the hallway, trying not to be spotted and maneuvered himself into the room.

The room was dimly lit by a few emergency lights and the glow from various vehicles and the lamps that lined the way to the door and the parking lot.

The form in the bed was absolutely still, her curly hair spread out over the pillow. She looked almost like an angel. Peter leaned down to take her hand and then saw the bandages that wrapped her wrists.

Instead he whispered, "Hey baby."

Darcy didn't move. He wanted to touch her but had no idea how to. Every time someone touched her, every time he touched her, did it make her remember a little more of that night. Was that why she had…

He couldn't even form the thought in his mind. He hadn't believed Manny when she'd told him. In some other, very graphic words, he'd called her a liar and several other things that shouldn't be repeated. He hadn't believed that Darcy, his Darcy, would ever do such a thing. Suicide was definitely one of those things that God frowned upon and aside from a few odd moments, she tended not to stray from her religion.

Hence their fight before she was…

Fuck.

"I know you're asleep right now…I just, I don't know if you heard me when I said, you know, that I love you and stuff. I thought you should know that I still do. It…it doesn't matter to me."

And it didn't matter not to him. He felt far more guilt that he hadn't been there in order to protect her. If he hadn't left her the first time, if he hadn't gotten so drunk that he'd lost her when he had gone to throw up. If he'd been a little better…it wouldn't have happened. He'd have kept her safe and he wouldn't be sitting here next to her hospital bed.

It wasn't the first time he had sat next to a girlfriend's hospital bed, which was a weird enough reality in itself but it was the first time he felt like it was partially is own fault. Emma's eating disorder, well he'd fet bad he hadn't figured it out sooner but it was her own problem inside her. Darcy…he'd hut her and left her and it had broken her.

"I'm sorry about everything. I was an ass and it hurt you. And I know it doesn't fix anything but I'm really sorry. You matter Darce," Peter could feel the tears welling up and his throat closing and he absently swiped at his eyes. "I don't know if I've told you how much. Don't do this again, please. I…I need you."

"Okay, so that's selfish but…I mean it, I need you."

"Peter?"

"Hey, hey. I…I waited until your parents left and snuck in. That is…that's okay isn't it? I just…I…"

"You're really here?" she asked, but it came out rough and stilted, unlike Darcy's usual light and airy voice.

"Yeah. I…" there were a million things he wanted to say but he couldn't manage to form them. Instead he just said, "I needed to see you."

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. Don't…" he reached out again but pulled his hand back at the last moment, feeling awkward and out of place. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Her eyes looked towards the other wall, and he knew that she wasn't really okay but at least she was alive. That had to count for something.

"I, uh, can't stay too late but I figured…" the words wouldn't seem to come. He always sucked in these sorts of situations. He never had the right words. Feeling awkward and out of place he slumped a little in his chair as he shrugged. "Thought you might need me or something. I don't know."

Frack. He felt lame and like the greatest idiot and worst boyfriend ever.

"I can't sleep. Will you stay?"

Peter sat up in the chair at that question. "Yeah, yeah," he promised quickly, "at least until you drop off for good."

She gave him a soft smile but wasn't the one he was used to. Peter had a sick feeling that he never really wood again. "Hold my hand?"

"Sure…I didn't know if…you won't mind?" he finished lamely.

"No."

Peter picked up her hand in his, and it felt so tiny and fragile. She looked so far from his usual strong, determined Darcy. "I'll be here. I…I love you, Darce," he whispered, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Love you too," Darcy murmured back.

Peter sat their for another half an hour and just watched Darcy silently as she slipped fitfully into sleep. Towards the end he could feel her breathing evening out and she looked at least a little more peaceful. He wished there was something, anything he could do for her other than what he was. The clock on the nightstand was glowing and said it was 10:30, if he wasn't home soon someone would likely notice. 

Regretfully, he slipped his hand out of hers and carefully laid it back down on the bed. Peter gave her one last look before he headed for the door. He quietly shut the door behind him, trying to make as little sound as possible and trying to let in the least amount of light.

"What were you doing in there?" a nurse asked him sharply, catching him as he moved towards the elevator. "Visiting hours are over."

Peter said nothing but bolted for the elevator. He'd already used up what little words he had and couldn't come up with a way to talk himself out of this one. His luck was running well today because the doors opened just as he got there and he quickly slid inside and pushed the door close button along with the bottom floor. A little chaos in his life, per usual. He glanced up at the ceiling and hoped that Darcy knew he would have stayed with her if he could.

Once at the ground floor he made his way out, hands in his pockets, hoping that things would have to get better from here. It was about time something went the right way.


End file.
